


Best Fake Smile

by The_front_bottoms



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Illness, Mental Institutions, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, all the losers have mental illness, there are some added characters because I want to put myself in a story for once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_front_bottoms/pseuds/The_front_bottoms
Summary: "We are all insane, but maybe that is why we have to stick together. Even after we get out." Eddie's voice was soft as he glanced at the other nine people. "I mean, I have no friends on the other side and you guys are the only ones that care." tears cascaded down his cheeks. Richie placed his hand in Eddie's, giving a comforting squeeze."We'll always be together. Losers have to stick together, right?" Richie offered with a small smile.





	1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Richie Tozier sat in the uncomfortable armchair in the lobby of the hospital. He bounced his knee, impatient and angry that his mother forced him here. _You didn’t care and then I took a bunch of pills and suddenly you become a good mom? Bullshit. _Richie’s anger towards his mother only escalated, angry that she had the nerve to try and pull the “good mother” card. Ridiculous.

Margret Tozier was an alcoholic. Richie was pretty sure it started not long before he was born. He can’t really recall a time where she was drunk off her ass, with a bottle in hand staring at the TV miserably. She had never wanted a kid, that everyone knew for a fact. Richie was an accident and it changed Margret’s happy drunk demeanor to one of just misery and longing for a better life.

Richie felt that he brought this sadness on his mom. That he was the reason she was so unhappy. And, no matter how many times he tried to deny it, he wanted his mom to be happy. He hated that part of him that still somewhat loved her and cared for her. Sadly, these thoughts lead to his downfall.

“Richard Tozier, I presume?” a lady in a white, knee length coat approached him. Her dark hair was in a low bun and her dark eyes watched him with a tight lipped smile.   
“Just Richie.” The words flew from his mouth on instinct. He hated his first name and always made it known in the first couple seconds of any interaction.   
“Alright, Richie. My name is Nurse Millie. I will be your groups lead nurse. You will have 3 doctors, which will include your group therapist, individual therapist, and emergency therapist.” Millie continued to read through the normal routine about rules and such. Richie tuned her out, not really caring. “Follow me, Richie. We can drop your stuff off and then we can head to meet your group in group therapy. Make sure you get close with them, as they will be the only other people you will really interact with, other than at lunch. Your group shares a sectioned hallway, therapies, and free time together. Lunch is for everyone here.” Richie nodded, pressing his lips into a firm line.

As they approached the door to Richie’s room, anxiety began to fill his mind. He just wanted to turn and leave. Why did he have to be here?   
“You will be roomed with a girl, which isn’t typically okay, but it is only because both of you are…gay. We feel it would be safer that way. Her name is Poppy and she is 17. That is really all I can legally disclose to you.” Richie opened the door. The room had a navy blue carpet and white brick walls. The girl, Poppy, had posters put up around the room to try and make it look more lively. Richie could tell he would like her. “All the people in your group are just as new as you, so no need to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.” Richie hummed a response and laid his bag down, before setting off to group therapy.

Upon approaching the room, Richie noticed the chairs, 11 to be exact, all placed in a circle. There were people in each chair, minus one, confirming that he was the last to arrive. The doctor, who looked to be significantly older with a long beard and somewhat wider figure, gestured Richie over.  
“Richard, welcome to the group.”   
“It is Richie, actually.” Richie mumbled, as he took a seat in between a boy with curl light hair and a girl with dark ringlets tied back.   
“Alright, that is fine, Richie. Now everyone, welcome to group therapy. I am Dr. Schell. I have been a therapist for 46 years. Now, we will continue going around the circle, give me your name, age, and a hobby of yours.” Richie glared towards the floor, arms crossed over his chest. He hated this place.

“Hello, my name is B-B-Bill. I am 18 and I enjoy dr-dr-drawing.” Richie glanced in his direction. He had longer, straight hair that made his blue eyes very apparent. He was tall and had a slight stutter to his words, “Sorry, my st-st-stutter tends to come out when I am nervous.” Bill quickly apologized and Richie felt compelled to speak.  
“No issue, Big Bill. It wasn’t that noticeable.” Richie didn’t understand why he said it, he had a tendency to be quite rude to people. He had no friends because of his jokes and how they affected everyone around him. But, he felt like him and Bill could be close. He didn’t want to screw this up. Bill threw Richie a shy smile.   
“That was very nice of you, Richie, which I heard is uncharacteristic for you.” Dr. Schell’s words immediately shut Richie down. His eyes dropped to the floor.  
“It really isn’t any of your business. Please continue around the circle.” Richie grounded out through a tense jaw.   
“I’m Beverly. I am 17 and I enjoy designing clothes.” Beverly also stood pretty tall. She had long red hair and tiny freckles dancing on her face. She appeared bored by the interaction, which made Richie smile a little. At least he wasn’t the only one annoyed by this therapy business.   
“My name is Eddie. I am 17 and I like…I’m not really sure, reading?” Richie’s eyes landed on the cutest person he’d ever seen. He was short, about 5’6. His dark hair was neatly combed and his brown eyes reminded Richie of a small puppy. He was wearing red shorts and an oversized yellow top. Richie smiled widely at him. _Eddie? That is a pretty cute name._ Richie wanted to get to know him.   
“I am Ben. I like history and I am 18.” Richie’s eyes peered at a rather attractive guy. He appeared to be self conscious though, so Richie respectfully removed his eyes, not wanting to make Ben anymore uncomfortable. Ben seemed nice and a more calm presence in the room.  
“I am Mike. I am 17 and I enjoy reading as well.” Mike was a black man, which Richie was exactly common with. His home was quite the small minded place, hurting and killing anyone that appeared different. And Richie was one of those. He felt for Mike, already appearing to like him. Mike’s eye showed he was friendly, but his body language told a different story.   
“My name is Mary. I am 17 and I enjoy dancing.” Mary had a very happy smile on her face, which kind of shocked Richie. She had blonde hair, which was in two braids over her shoulder. Her brown eyes showed a sadness, in Richie’s opinion. She was wearing a pastel pink skirt and a white shirt tucked in, which seemed very formal.  
“My name is Stan. I am 18 and I like bird watching.” Richie wanted to snort at that, make a joke. But, again, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Stan seemed so proud of his fact and his eyes showed a kind happiness. He ran a hair through his curly hair. His hands were shaking a little bit, Richie noted. But it was his turn now.   
“My name is Richie and I am 17. I like music, I suppose.” Richie mumbled, taking a quick sweep of the people in the room. His eyes met Eddie’s and Richie almost melted.   
“I’m Poppy. I am 17 and I like music as well.” Richie glanced at the girl next to him. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low pony tail. She was pale and thin with bright green eyes. She had grey sweatshirt with small black leggings on. She kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. Richie knew this was the girl he would be sharing a room with.  
“Alright, very good everyone. Now, we are going to have a discussion about mental illness and why we are here. Feel free to speak from personal experience or just your thoughts in general. What does it mean to be mentally ill?” Richie scoffed loudly at the man, thinking this question was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. _It means we are insane and a danger to ourselves._ Richie’s thought were hissing at him angrily, reprimanding him for thinking he could be normal here. “You want to say something, Richie?” Richie’s angry glare turned and met the doctor.   
“Well, gee, doc, thanks for asking. I think having a mental illness is like being insane and everyone not knowing what to do back, surprise, you act absolutely fucking crazy. Not like anyone can cure it either.” The doctor went to reprimand Richie for his words when another voice spoke up.  
“No, before you say anything, he is right. Mental illness is seen as a disease that can’t be cured. No one wants to be your friend because they don’t want it to rub off on them. They don’t want to watch you self destruct. And, whereas people might care, they don’t know how to help. They just don’t understand that your mind is hurting you because they couldn’t imagine something like that.” Eddie said, “My mom thought it was something she could cure. She couldn’t understand that it was my mind hurting me, not the flu or a cold. She just…didn’t understand.” Dr. Schell seemed to be in thought over Eddie’s words.  
“Good job, Eddie. You have brought us to our next point. How do parents affect mental illness?” Richie saw a couple people cringe at the word parents, including himself.   
“My parents have tried to help, making appointments and having me go in and out of therapy units and hospitals. They wanted someone that could just help make sense of the issue. But, while that was occurring, I felt very lonely and like an alien in my own family.” Mary’s words seemed to resonate with some of the others, such as Stan and Eddie. But Richie just couldn’t relate, and from the look Poppy had, he’d guess she didn’t either.   
“When my OCD really started to flare up, my dad tried to be there. I think it was just hard for him. He is the rabbi with a suddenly fucked up kid. I mean, his reputation remained important to him. So, he tried. We didn’t really go out in public much, probably for my benefit, but it still felt like I was hidden away from my issues.” Stan voice became raspy, and Mary leaned over and place a hand on his knee.   
“So, you guys have parents that tried to help in all the wrong ways. What about the other half of you?” No one answered immediately. Richie could assume that there was something with each family dynamic. If they were anything like Richie’s, he could understand.  
“When my brother went mi-mi-missing, my depression stepped in. My parents, who were dealing with their own depression, didn’t care for me as much as a normal parent tried to. They were more uncaring and irritable than before. So when my depression got in the way, they just brushed it off.” Bill’s voice was quiet, making Richie feel terribly. Richie could see Eddie looked at Bill with widened eyes.   
“Yeah, after my mom passed, my dad seemed to become more aggressive. He started to drink to deal with the pain. But I was also struggling and he didn’t really see that.” Beverly mumbled.   
“Ah, Ms. Marsh. I was waiting for you to bring up your parent. Would you like to open up more?” The doctor seemed to be offering very kindly, but Richie noticed Beverly quickly snap shut.

“No.”   
“But, Beverly, it may help.” Richie could see the shaking of Beverly’s hands and that is where he stepped in.  
“She said no. Leave her alone. If she doesn’t want to talk, don’t make her.” Beverly sent Richie a small smile as the doctor observed Richie with shock.  
“Richie, I am just trying to-“  
“You aren’t really doing much of anything. You are just upsetting her further and the more upset she becomes, the less comfortable she will feel when we do need to share. She will talk in her own fucking time.” That wasn’t Richie’s voice. Richie glanced at Poppy. She had her small trembling hand hidden in the sleeve of her sweatshirt but, despite the aggressive posture, her face remained blank.   
“Poppy, I understand what you are saying, but it was worth a try. Beverly, if you’d like, you may continue.” Beverly looked uncomfortable.   
“My mom and dad are alcoholics who never wanted a kid.” Richie’s voice began to speak, to keep Beverly from having to. He felt his story wasn’t much of a sob story, he just didn’t enjoy talking about it. But he could see that Beverly’s story was personal and he would gladly take one for the team. “My dad has always been this way. He has always been cold and closed off, always handling things with a fist and a beer.” Richie chuckled humorlessly, “But my mom, I craved love from her. I just wanted her to see me as something she was proud of. I tried cleaning, making her food, telling jokes, doing good in school, all sorts of things that most parents would love. But she just…wasn’t up for it. She would drink and drink until she forgot she even had a son. It drove me crazy. I tried to resent her, hate her for not loving me. But it was hard. I couldn’t blame her. I mean, I don’t really even love me. And now, she has forced me into this hellhole against my will because now, _right now,_ is when she decides she loves her son.” Richie rolled his eyes angrily.

“Well, that was very brave of you to step up like that Richie. Would you like to talk about why you are here?” The doctor’s words made Richie’s air get stuck in his throat. He choked a bit, looking away.  
“Actually, I think what he has shared is a huge step, maybe leave him alone.” Eddie’s voice was small. It sounded like he was scared but determined to help Richie.   
“Alright, I can already see that we have formed some fast friendships and that is great. Our session is over, if you guys would like to head to lunch. The nurses will escort you.” Richie made eye contact with Eddie, mouthing a thank you in his direction. Eddie nodded his head subtly, letting him know that it wasn’t an issue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a small mention of the F slur. Just a warning.

At the lunch table, Richie was sitting with Poppy, Beverly, and Eddie. He felt closes to them at the current moment. Richie’s eyes flicked back to Eddie, who sat across the table, and was happily munching on a French fry. _God, he is beautiful. _Eddie’s big brown eyes were gazing at Beverly and nodding along every so often with whatever she was saying. He had his eyebrows furrowed, making him look adorably confused. His mouth was parted slightly as he ate. Richie admired the sheer beauty this kid exuded without even trying. Eddie’s brown hair seemed to be slightly messed up, perhaps from nervously running his fingers through it. _I want to run my fingers through his hair. _Richie scolded himself as he glanced back at the table. _Shut the fuck up, you idiot. Eddie isn’t gay and you are a broken fool if you think he could ever love you. _Richie’s brain fought with itself consistently, like half of him was trying to be happy and the other half just didn’t care. It could destroy him.

“You okay? You look like you might throw hands at the table any minute.” A small hand placed on top of Richie’s. The hand was small and pale and _incredibly _boney. Richie’s eyes met Poppy’s as she pulled her hand away.  
“Yeah, I am peachy. Just thinking.” Richie said, hoping she’d take the bait so he could make her hate him. So that she’d warn others to stay away from him.   
“About what?”   
“Fucking your mom.” Richie had to keep from flinching, knowing his jokes weren’t typically appreciated. He was expecting yells and insults but was met with the small chuckle.   
“Good one, dude. I mean, you could use some work on how to say it with a much more friendly face. It was kind of blank and bland.” Richie could tell, immediately, that this would be one of his closest friends here.   
“Hey, Poppy, you were pretty cool back there. You too, Richie.” Beverly said, “Thanks for defending me. No one has ever really done that.” Poppy smiled and waved her off.  
“No issue, really. I just think he needs to stop riding your dick so damn hard with his dry ass pussy.” Eddie blushed furiously, choking on his fry at Poppy’s comment.  
“What’s wrong, Eds? Never heard those words before?” Richie teased, as Eddie turned even redder.   
“That is so gross, stop talking.” Richie chuckled at Eddie, popping a fry in his mouth.   
“Don’t worry, you’ll understand at some point.” Once again, Eddie spluttered.  
“Shut the fuck up. Who would even say something like that?”   
“Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier at your service, with his new sidekick.” Richie gestured to Poppy. He couldn’t really think of a nickname for her, but one will come eventually.

Richie smiled as Eddie huffed softly, rolling his eyes. _Those eyes. Gorgeous. _Richie shook her head, hoping to shake these gay thoughts out. The other patients came and joined the table.   
“The line just for a hotdog was atrocious.” Stan mumbled, sitting down. Richie noted that they all stood in the hotdog line.  
“Probably because you all went to the same line.” Beverly mentioned playfully.   
“You all got chicken and fries, I don’t see the difference.” Stan said, in a playful snap. Beverly grinned.  
“So, I actually have to go meet with a therapist, so I will catch you guys during rec time.” Poppy said, standing and leaving. Richie glanced at her plate, noticing that it was completely full still. He shrugged. _Not my business, not my problem. _Richie’s gaze turned back to Eddie, who was listen to Bill talk. _No gay thoughts, he is clearly as straight as it gets. Plus, he is way too good for me. I would only ruin him. _So, Richie turned his attention to Stan. Richie had to admit, Stan was cute as well. His curly hair seemed messy compared to the neatness of the rest of him. He had on a button up shirt all the way to his neck and some nice dress pants. Stan’s eyes were warm honey and he was smiling softly at his food.

Richie noted that everyone here was incredibly nice looking. _Except for me. _Quickly shaking the negative thoughts, he turned his attention to the girl, Mary. She was smiling politely at everyone. She sat, back straight and ate her food with fork and knife. Her elbows were off the table. She had a napkin on her lap. _Too proper. _Richie chalked it down to her family. Her too perfect blonde hair stayed in neat braids and the smile seemed faked.   
“I think I know you Eddie, you attend Derry High, right?” Bill asked, causing everyone at the table to react quickly, some wincing at the same, others choking on food.   
“You guys went to Derry?” Bev questioned.   
“It sounds like we all did.” Stan mumbled, “And judging off that reaction, we didn’t have the best time.”   
“Henry Bowers made it difficult for anyone to enjoy.” Eddie mumbled, making Bev nod.   
“Henry stopped fucking with me when I hit about 6 foot. By then, all his intimidation tactics just weren’t that scary. So, I started to kick his ass if I caught him fucking with someone.” Richie mumbled. Bill and Stan nodded, knowing that their height contributed a lot to not getting their asses kicked as much.   
“Wait, I think you saved me one day.” Eddie said, shocked, “I was a sophomore and I went to the bathroom and Henry was tormenting me, calling me a faggot” Richie winced, “and you came out of the stall, fist immediately hitting him. Then you left.”   
“Shit, yeah. That was me. Sorry for just leaving you like that. I don’t like sticking around to see the damage.” Eddie smiled and waved it off, “That is a cute smile, Eds.” Richie commented, leaning over to pinch Eddie’s cheek.   
“Don’t call me that.” Richie would have believed he meant it, if he didn’t see the tiniest blush spread across his cheeks. It was truly heavenly.

Recreational time was the groups free time. They could draw, talk, watch a movie, sing, whatever. The group, appearing to have become fast friends, sat together on a couch. They were playing Go Fish.   
“Hey, Billy Boy, you got any three’s.” Richie tried, giving Bill a cheesy smile.  
“You’ve literally tried that the past 2 rounds Rich, go fish.” Bill said, rolling his eyes as a small chuckle escaped his mouth.   
“Damn, and I thought this turn was the one.” Richie mumbled, as he drew a new card. Richie, as well as the other group members, heard footsteps down the hallway and saw Poppy returning with a nurse present, who was holding her arm.   
“Can you let me the fuck go? Jesus Christ, you’d think I was going to run away in the 3 seconds it took to walk me down here.” Poppy hissed, ripping her arm out of the nurse’s grip. Poppy headed in the direction of the group, “Sorry I am late, trouble with my appointment. And let that nurse grab me like that. I will catch assault charges.” Poppy’s voice increased as she said the last part, turning her steely eyes to the nurse in the corner.   
“Where did you go?” Bill asked, not really realize that he was being insensitive, “Also, do you go to Derry High?”   
“Yeah, I go there. Well, use to until I was forced here. And I just had an appointment with a doctor about my treatment plan. Nothing important.” Richie took the time to analyze her body, noticing that she was in an oversized shirt and some small leggings that showed how boney her legs were. _Not my problem. _He turned back to his game of Go Fish. _These aren’t my problems. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
